


throw me in the deep end, watch me drown

by thisguystyles



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: ALSO A TEENY TINY BIT OF DADDY KINK, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Harry, Dildos, IF ANYONE WANTS TO KNOW HERE YOU HAVE IT, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Nipple Clamps, Nipple Play, OK GO ON PALS, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, SO, Sex Toys, THEY USE A WORD SLUT ONCE OK, Top Louis, also!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!, and its bottom harry guys, as always, bottom louis stans too but you understand me yeah?, for all my bottom harry stans you are all beautiful, good good, harry is his tutor, i guess, i guess x2, idk ive never seen a dick in my life so, lets start with the worst (best?) ones, louis is terrible at maths, now read :-(, oh also HEY PALS I REMEMBERED, okay folks, once - Freeform, shit happens, thats all i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-08 12:53:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4305846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisguystyles/pseuds/thisguystyles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“That's why you were late, eh?” he teases as Harry frantically tries to hide the dildos and the collar in the drawer. “Having too much fun to think about good ole Louis?” </p><p>“You were having fun too,” Harry replies weakly. Louis honestly has never seen a person be in such a shade of red. </p><p>“Yeah, but my fun didn't involve colourful dildos and nipple clamps.” </p><p>or the one where louis really needs to pass his a-levels and harry is his tutor who doesn’t really own a dog.</p>
            </blockquote>





	throw me in the deep end, watch me drown

**Author's Note:**

> okay so what do i!!!! where do i start!!!! my GOD
> 
> okay so deep in my soul i always knew that my first work written in english will be a smuty nasty piece of shit, so here we are. this one is based on [this post](http://illegallylesbianing.tumblr.com/post/123627937673/pointstohome-sharkgutz-realizing-why-your) with the amazing tags by louserz and-- well, you see. i really had nothing to do 
> 
> also i know literally nothing about uk's colleges so i just mixed up what ive read on wikipedia and my knowledge about polish ones so.......... 
> 
> and of course i want to thank [Loue](http://blouest.tumblr.com/) for bearing with me and for beta'ing this shit of a fanfic and yeah- for being the kindest grandma ive ever met (you really made this better, thank you)
> 
> this smutty piece of nasty events i decided to dedicate the amazing manip maker [Miri](http://louis2k15.tumblr.com/). that is for you, enjoy? 
> 
> and for everyone else, please tell me if you liked it and what is there to improve and forgive me my mistakes, since english isn't my first language :-) 
> 
> kudos and comments will be very appreciated, because as someone very smart said: there is nothing worse than spending hours working on a piece and presenting it to quiet void. even if its only a porn without plot

The room is filled with smoke and makes objects look very funny, it's what Louis thinks at least. He is lying on the bed, legs splayed wide apart, blowing smoke into Liam's face. He watches him cough a bit with furrowed brows which is just _so funny_. Louis giggles, smoke coming out of his parted lips, and when Liam is about to say something, they hear the door slam open.

Apparently, it's Niall. And he's shouting. Suddenly, all of this is too much for Louis, so he puts his joint aside to cover his ears.

Niall doesn't stop. He must be even higher than Louis and Liam altogether. “Mate!” he shouts, climbing onto his lap. “Got you a beer!”

“Thanks, Niall,” Louis mumbles as he takes one bottle from Niall's sweaty hands. For some unknown reason, the Irish lad doesn't move even an inch. Louis only sighs and lets his eyes wander around the room as Niall makes himself comfortable. Eventually, he stops at the wall clock and it takes him a minute to read it because _really, who even uses wall clocks nowadays?_ And shit, let me tell you, Louis is _latelatelate_.

The thing is, if he really wanted to get into Manchester University, he has to pass his maths A-levels better than well (honestly, Louis doesn't get his hopes too high, but a B would be nice enough). That means every Saturday at four thirty throughout the whole year he has meetings with Harry who's one year younger but miraculously understands advanced maths better than anyone else does. And he's cute, so whenever Louis doesn't really feel like parabolas and shit, he can just sit, nod and stare at him.

And today of all days, he has to be late. Sometimes Harry is. Or both of them are. The only thing he knows right now is that it's nearly five o'clock and he has two stoned friends in his room (they study in here; it was the only condition for Harry) ((Louis couldn't believe him at first when he said he could do it for free. Then again, this boy sometimes talks to butterflies. So.)) Maybe it's a good thing Harry is late, too.

Obviously, they can't study here, so Louis pushes Niall off his lap and jumps to his desk, grabs everything that seems like he could use it to do maths and storms out of the room.

The corridor is rather empty since most kids go home for the weekends; as Louis gets close to the wing Harry lives in, he hears loud music coming from someone's room. He turns his head to look inside the door left ajar, his face meeting someone's broad chest. (Louis hates being tiny sometimes. Usually, it helps though. He fits into everything and most probably could get a discount on ice cream or something. Not that he tried it. No, sir.)

“Sorry, didn't see you,” someone says and yeah, Louis gets that a lot. He should probably stop arguing with Liam about being in fact 5'9. But. “Are you okay?” the boy asks and Louis' mind finally stops the weird monologue he was having with himself and looks up.

It's Harry, but he looks different. Louis, being still a little high, squints and studies his face for a while. He should probably respond, but Harry is staring at him with hazy eyes. Maybe he's high too. Makes sense, Louis thinks, high people are usually late. Still, something is wrong with Harry's face, but Louis is suddenly too tired and about to give up, when it hits him.

“You're wearing glasses!” he shouts in a high pitch. A second later, it's weird and confusing. “You're wearing glasses?” he asks now, questioning quietly.

“Yeah,” Harry confirms softly. Louis likes his voice very much. Even maths sounds appealing in his lips. “Was in a bit of a hurry and couldn't find my contacts.”

“So, you wear contacts?” he asks then, feeling quite dumb, because of course he wears contacts, he just said that, you idiot. He smiles to cover up the weird feeling of shame. “I should wear glasses, too, but I say Fuck Them, Man, you know?!”

Harry furrows his brows, looking even cuter than a moment before and it's such a common thing for him, Louis is going to scream. This boy is practically the most beautiful person here, in the whole world maybe, but Louis isn't going to do anything about it. He's here, Harry's here, they miraculously exist in the same universe and sometimes (or most of the time) Louis is a scared prick who fakes confidence with nasty jokes and sarcasm. So. He has to settle for angry admiration from afar.

Harry is saying something, Louis sees his lips moving (his fucking lips, the work of Satan and God combined; Louis is sure anyone who touches them dies instantly) but can't quite focus on his words. He can't focus on anything, actually. He can sense that they are walking and that Harry's bun bounces a little when he takes another step and– and no, they shouldn't be walking in this direction; Louis stops abruptly.

Harry stops, too, a step ahead of him, with parted lips, as though he stopped mid-sentence. He arches a brow, querying, “Is something wrong, Louis?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, rocking back on his heels. All of a sudden, he's not so sure if he can ask Harry as much, if he can bend the only rule that's settled. Harry is doing it for free. Harry is spending his free time with him voluntarily and honestly, it must be a fucking torture because Louis is really _really_ bad at maths and–

“What is it, Lou?” he asks again, taking a step towards him. Louis notices his hand twitch as if he wanted to touch, soothe him or something.

“It's just ...” he makes a weird move with his hand. “It's that I am very irresponsible and currently have two very high guys in my room, so ... It's not very study friendly environment, is it?”

Harry's face drops a little at that and this time it's Louis' turn to stop himself from touching his pale cheek. They stare at each other in silence because Louis is sure that Harry got the hidden message and also, he isn't sure if he can add anything to that. They stay silent.

“I guess we can go to my room this one time,” Harry says eventually and Louis smiles at him the best he can. Harry smiles back. In the same calmness, they walk back to his room.

Turns out Harry has a single room and Louis is in awe, honest to God awe. He didn't even think they existed, really. But there he is, standing in a single room that belongs to Harry. And it's great. There is a small bed next to the wall that is covered in posters, a small desk and a drawer and a giant wardrobe that is quite a contrast to everything else, but generally speaking, everything is just so small, it's a wonder that Harry can fit in there, the giant.

Louis is really overwhelmed but listens when Harry tells him to sit down and wait while he's searching for something to eat. He sits on the perfectly made bed, legs crossed and back against the wall, scanning the room once again. Harry's shirt is riddled up a little bit and he's on his tippy toes looking for something on the top shelf (not even Harry with his giant body is safe from the big and scary college wardrobes). Louis looks away, scared about Harry catching him staring at his bum, which is sort of inevitable because it looks amazing in those skinny jeans, okay. So, Louis lets his eyes wander as Harry bustles around the room. Finally, his eyes land on the night drawer. There is something colourful lying there, looking like those silicon bones for dogs. Weird shaped ones, but Louis isn't the one to judge. Also a collar. Once again, Louis is very confused.

“You have a dog in here?” he asks Harry, who's coming back with a bowl of nachos. “That's so cool, honestly. I thought you couldn't keep animals in the dorms. Or at least that's what Ivy, The Master Of The Dorms said, the bitch–”

“A dog?” Harry says, surprise in his voice. His eyes land on the objects Louis is pointing at and he lets out a weak groan.

“Yeah, judging by those bones here and the ... weird collar I'd say you have a doggy.” Louis continues cheerfully, not aware of how big Harry's eyes gotten. “You better hide those from Ivy because either way, mate ...” he adds, picking up the collar. It has weird metal chains that are connected with clamps at the end and _what the actual fuck_.

Confused, he's shouting in mix with the sound of the bowl hitting the ground and in mere seconds, Harry is on the bed with him, trying to get the collar out of this hand. His cheeks are red and seriously, he looks like he's about to cry and Louis remembers his hazed eyes in the corridor, remembers what he said about being in a hurry so he didn't have time to look for his contacts and everything makes sense now. Louis wants to scream and it's the second time on this day.

“That's why you were late, eh?” he teases as Harry frantically tries to hide the dildos and the collar in the drawer. “Having too much fun to think about good ole Louis?”

“You were having fun too,” Harry replies weakly. Louis honestly has never seen a person be in such a shade of red.

“Yeah, but my fun didn't involve colourful dildos and nipple clamps.”

“That's a shame, honestly.”

Louis arches a brow. The dildos are hidden and Harry doesn't sound like he's about to cry anymore, so Louis decides to play that specific card.

“Yeah?” he asks, shuffling closer to Harry who's sitting beside him on the bed now. He lets his eyes drop to the boy's parted lips and leaves them there for a minute. “Tell me, was it too good to let go, eh? The feeling too overwhelming that you decided to ignore the reminder for our session for one more minute just to feel, am I right? And then it got late, you were here, on the bed, naked and desperate for release ... What if I arrived here before you managed to gather up? What if I opened the door without knocking only to find you fucking down on this dildo like a desperate little slut?”

“That would be rather rude,” Harry says with a breathy voice. His eyes are hazy again, pupils blown with _wantwantwant_. But he won't be the first to break the tension, Louis figures, he has to do it himself.

He leans down as if he wanted to kiss him, instead of aiming for his plump lips, though, he goes for the delicately long, pale neck, peppering kisses here and there, enjoying Harry's shaky breaths and little almost non-existent moans. He's so gone already and Louis has barely started.

He smiles against his skin and then bites, _hard_. If the clamps were an indicator, Harry likes pain, might love it, even. And Louis is right, of course – Harry almost shouts and shifts on the bed. Louis gently pushes him back, lips still attached to his skin, nibbling on it and sucking in small lovebites. He smirks at the thought of Harry having to cover them on Monday morning, the thought of the small marks reminding him of what they did, getting him so hot that he has to get off again just to miss his classes and–

And Louis might have a little problem with concentrating on the present (maybe that's why he's so bad at maths) when Harry's actually beneath him, all hot and squirming and rock hard, as far as Louis can tell.

Eventually, he lets go of his neck, studded with hickeys all prettily, and kisses along his collarbones. Truly a masterpiece. Louis can't wait to see the rest of him naked. He motions for him to get up a little so he's able to rip his black shirt of his body. And fuck, if this isn't the most beautiful sight he's ever laid his eyes on.

Then, Harry wants to take off his glasses, but Louis stops him with a firm, “No.” (There isn't a serious reason behind it. Harry just looks very hot in them.) (But then again, he'd probably look stunning in a potato sack, this fucker.)

Harry is so sharp and so soft at the same time, it's unbelievable. He's got a flat stomach and muscles that feel like a washboard under his touch. But. He also has love handles and Louis wants to ask God himself how this is _possible_. That's for later, anyway. Right now, it seems like he can't get enough of Harry's skin on his own and that's very annoying.

After Harry's shirt, he dismisses his skinny jeans and boxers and Louis' clothes follow shortly after. Louis parts Harry's legs to kneel between them, staring at the treasure in-between: his cock lying on his tummy, looking so nice, _so big and so red_. He's almost hairless which makes Louis want to lick him from head to toes _even more_.

He settles for taking Harry's dick in his hand and stroking it slowly. Harry shifts on the bed again, eyes are closed and lips parted, letting out the most beautiful whimpers Louis has ever heard. He stops when Harry starts kicking his legs involuntarily and straightens his back.

“So,” he starts, voice deep. “What do you want me to do to you?”

Harry opens his eyes slowly, as though it's really hard for him to do so. After a while – which seems to take an eternity – he points in the direction of the drawer. It clicks almost instantly.

Louis smiles at him and gets off the bed. When he's digging through the content of the drawer, pulling out various sized dildos, Harry props himself up on his elbows.

“I know you're staring at my ass,” Louis sing-songs. The only response that comes from Harry is a deep growl which somehow makes Louis _very_ proud. “Anyway, where do you keep the lube?”

He looks behind his shoulder to find Harry blushing as if lube was the most perverted thing he kept in his room. It takes him a while to mumble, “The second drawer.”  
Then Louis hears him shuffling on the bedspread.

When he turns around, a bottle of lube, a collar and a nice seven inch dildo in his hands, he finds Harry on his front, face pressed into sheets, arse in the air. Louis can swear he's wiggling it a little bit, the fucking tease.

Louis kneels behind him, setting the dildo and the lube aside. He starts peppering kisses from where Harry pulled his hair up in a bun, and down, marking his spine, and then kissing his left cheek, for good measure. He doesn't know where all of this fondness is coming from, since he's never been the one for sweetness but it's probably Harry who's to blame. Harry and his stupid buns, nerdy sweaters and stupid maths jokes. And maybe his hot as hell body. Maybe.

Louis squeezes the collar he's still holding and nudges Harry at the bottom of his spine (he's got dimples there ... Louis feels dizzy). As if he knew what is about to happen, Harry moves upwards, pressing his body against Louis' whose clothed dick lines up right against Harry's plump ass. Louis gives him a squeeze because he can.

“Gonna be good for me, princess?” He feels unsure with the nickname, worrying if Harry even likes being called such names; but then again, years of faking self-confidence come in handy in situations like these. Louis is going to be the best fuck in Harry's entire life. “We're gonna put this on now, okay?” he says as he grinds his hips against Harry's ass slowly. “Would you like that?”

“Yeah,” Harry whimpers, his hips rocking back in their own rhythm. “Yes, please, daddy.”

Oh, okay.

Louis doesn’t say anything to that and puts the collar on Harry's neck. It fits perfectly, instantly; and in one second, Louis' mind is filled with pictures of Harry wearing it on various occasions. He wonders how many times Harry has fucked himself before their meetings which gets him even harder, if that's possible.

Once the collar is sitting tightly on Harry's neck, Louis reaches for the clamps. Carefully, he tightens them on Harry's puffy nipples and tugs a little. He's truly not prepared for anything, but Harry screams, literally screams at the top of his lungs, and rocks back harder.

“Okay, princess,” Louis says, pushing the boy to the previous position. “I'm gonna get you wet, nice and open with my fingers and then I'm gonna fuck you with that pretty blue dildo, is that okay?”

Harry mumbles a muffled “Yes” into the pillows; after that, Louis doesn't want to waste any time. So, he picks up the lube and slicks up three fingers, circling one of them around Harry's rim, watching him quiver with want. Eventually, Louis gives up teasing and slides his finger inside of Harry, pumping it in and out in a slow pace. Harry murmurs something and Louis wants to ask him what it is, but he also knows that the boy is most probably not capable to form proper sentences right now. What he does instead is pushing a second finger inside Harry's body, ripping a loud moan out of him.

He's three fingers and a really fast pace into him, when Harry turns his head around. His lips are raw and red like he's been biting them all the time, cheeks and neck flushed beautifully. His eyes are in a daze, but still he looks like he knows what he wants.

According to Louis, this boy _does_ know.

“More,” he moans. “And harder, Louis, harder.”

It's probably the most he has said in the past ten minutes – who really Louis is to deny him such a thing? He bites down on his bottom lip, trying to figure out how to realise the _harder_ part, when he remembers the long forgotten clamps. Louis smirks.

So, he starts pumping his fingers slower, directly aiming for Harry's prostate now, and bends down to take hold of the chain where the clamps are connected. He grips it firmly and with a hard push of his fingers he's pulling the chain down.

Harry goes nuts. He doesn't come, though, as Louis expected him to do, but still. He shouts and kicks his legs and lets out an endless stream of “ _Yes, Lou, just like that!_ ” Once again, Louis feels proud. So he pulls again.

The position is weird, though, becoming slightly uncomfortable for him after a while, so he sits up and pulls his fingers out. Harry whimpers at the loss and wiggles his pretty bum in the air. Louis picks up the dildo from earlier and covers it in lube. He shuffles on the bed a bit to sit beside Harry, to have easier access to both his hole and his nipples. It is, honest to God, perfect.

Louis smacks the dildo a few times on Harry's cheeks, wondering if the boy could come just from spanking. He probably _could_ and just the mere thought of it makes Louis' cock twitch. And suddenly, he remembers his very own hard-on demands attention; but that can be taken care of later. It's Harry who matters right now.

When Louis pushes the dildo through the tight ring of muscles, he watches in awe how it disappears in Harry's body. He would love for it to be his cock, but then again, Harry wasn't thinking straight from the beginning. It'd feel a lot like taking advantage. Another time, he thinks while pushing the dildo to the limit. That's for another time.

“If it becomes too much, punch me,” he says loudly, making sure that Harry understands him. “You okay?”

Harry nods and it's all Louis needs to start everything over again: he starts with a slow, almost torturous pace with the dildo and pulls the chains down. And Harry screams. Louis is sure that everyone in the dorm can hear him, but he couldn't care less.

Slowly, he starts to pick up the pace, pulling the chains down only occasionally, as though it's a reward when Harry's behaving well. And Harry is very good, believe Louis; he's rocking back wildly, like his life depended on it, moaning his name so loudly and obscenely that Louis feels all lofty. He's the only one that can make Harry feel so good. _Nice._

“L-Lou,” Harry groans after particularly hard pump of the dildo. “Lou, please.”

“What do you want, baby?” he asks softly, slowing his movements. “Are you close?”

“Have been this whole time, yeah,” Harry replies and Louis' chest feels heavy. _This whole time._ “I want your mouth on me,” he adds shakily.

“Where do you want it?”

“My cock.”

Louis gets up fast and pushes Harry onto his back gently. He keeps the dildo moving as he bends down to take Harry's dick into his mouth which makes his wrist cramp worse than ever. The shit you do for a good fuck, really. He trails his free hand up his torso, pinching here and there, until finally, he reaches the chains. Trying to combine everything he's currently doing, he twists the dildo _just right_ , swallows him down the best he can _and_ pulls the chain down.

And Harry comes. And that's it. Louis thinks that's beautiful.

Harry shoots down his throat and Louis swallows it all, stopping the movements of his hand since Harry starts to squirm on the bed, probably too sensitive now. When Louis sits up, Harry's got the most beautiful blissful smile he's ever seen in his entire life.

But Louis is still hard and aching for his own release and Harry doesn't seem be in the condition to give it to him, so he decides to get it himself. He only hopes that Harry won't mind what he's about to do. And also, it's not like Louis didn't tell him to feel free to punch him when it's too much.

So he flips Harry onto he's stomach and reaches for the lube. Once he's slicked up, he spreads Harry's cheeks and for a wild second Harry thinks he's gonna fuck him like this, when he's over-sensitive and sore, but _no_. He slides his cock inbetween, fucking Harry's butt cheeks. It's certainly a lot and it feels great and Harry moans, reaching down to his cock that didn't even had a chance to go down.

They go like this, both grunting, both close and with a few strokes to his cock and a few slaps landing on his cheeks (Louis had to try it, he _had_ to) Harry comes again and Louis follows him shortly after, shooting his come in long white ribbons on his back. They're both panting like there is not enough air in the room.

Later, Louis gets up and takes his shirt to clean them both up (it's an old one and he will figure out how to go back to his room, maybe. He's a clever guy). Harry's lying on his back now, big smile plastered on his face. He repeats quiet thank you's as Louis cleans the come and lube off his chest and thighs.

He's quite terrified because he doesn't know what to say. Does this fuck mean something or will they keep it as a one-time-thing? His eyes jump around the room until they settle on the bowl and nachos scattered all over the carpeted floor. There lies The One and Only, The Great Nacho, probably, which survived in the bowl. A miracle, truly.

So without much thought, Louis gets up and goes to pick up the Survivor Nacho. Harry observes his movements with half-closed eyes and his arm thrown over his head. Louis is back on the bed in no time, handing Harry the nacho.

“Here cutie, have a nacho,” he says with a completely straight face, then dips down to kiss his cheek and, unsure but still, the corner of his mouth.

Harry laughs like a hyena, covering his mouth and punching him, but takes a nacho and pulls him closer and everything seems quite alright.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!!! 
> 
> leave me something - kudos, a comment maybe, make me smile a little :-) 
> 
> tumblr: [illegallylesbianing](http://illegallylesbianing.tumblr.com/)


End file.
